My Letters
by CheetahLiv
Summary: Sequel to My Long Sleeves. Perry and JD have broken up, and JD writes to Molly to "let it all out" in a sort of long distance therapy. Please review!


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Scrubs is the property of Mr. Bill Lawrence, and NBC/ABC/I have no idea. Just not me.**

**AN: This is a sequel to My Long Sleeves. It's a first person, JD POV fic. Mentions JDox, brief mention of self-injury, but not explicit at all. Please let me know what you think! There will be more chapters as soon as school lets out. I have exams for the next two weeks then I'm done for the summer. Be patient--I will finish this!**

**Also, this story is dedicated to Bonzodog, who gave me the inspiration for this. Thank you! :)**

I don't know why I started again. Okay, that's a lie. I know exactly why. My life is a mess. I finally made attending, I had the world's most perfect boyfriend (even though he'd object violently to that title). Then it all went to hell.

Now, I know you must be wondering why I started cutting myself again if I was so happy in my relationship, but really, I was. I loved Perry with all my heart, but for us to be together, he had to lay down some ground rules. To keep our relationship under wraps, Perry decided we should keep up our facades to the outside world, meaning he would continue to live with Jordan and I would date then break up with any girl I wanted. Sure, it was his decision to keep us a secret, but his reasons made sense. Patients would switch off our services, we'd draw the hospital board's attention, not to mention Jordan would be _pissed_. And yeah, it sucked to keep this a secret, but it worked. Jordan never knew, and Turk, Carla, and Elliot never found out.

How I lived for those stolen kisses in a coma patient's room, or those lust-filled but too brief encounters in an on-call room or supply closet. I longed for weekends when Jordan would be out of town with Jack, or when Turk and Carla would go out on their bi-monthly Friday night date, leaving me alone in the apartment. Or so they thought. No one ever suspected we were anything other than colleagues at work. Our secret was safe.

The only person who ever knew that Perry and I were an item was you. I started seeing you for therapy after the "incident" in my fourth year here. Lord knows I hate shrinks, but I was so messed up at the time that I let everything go in our sessions. You remain to this day the only person who knows about us, and for keeping the secret, thank you.

I was on top of the world for about two years. I dated on and off, and eventually found a really nice girl, one I actually felt guilty about for jerking her around. Her name's Kim. She looks a lot like you, actually. She's a great girl, which makes this harder to do to her. But I stray from my story. I was really happy in both my secret relationship and my public one with Kim. Everything was perfect until one day after work, when Perry approached me in the locker room. There were other doctors around, so I knew he wouldn't do anything unusual, at least, not here. He stood in front of me. He was obviously anxious about something—there was a glint of something in his eyes that set me on edge. Then he said simply, "Jordan's pregnant."

My heart sank, tears swam in my eyes. Numbly I sat on the bench behind me and watched with watery vision as he walked away. I knew then that things were going to change between us. I mean, if he had been so hesitant to be with me when he had only one kid, he'd want to cut all personal ties once the newest Sullivan-Cox arrived.

And sure enough, that night came a knock on my door. It was a Friday night, Turk and Carla's date night, a fact that Perry knew as well as I did. I opened the door. It was him, an apologetic look already written on his features.

"JD, we need to talk," he said, solemnly. I nodded my head, tears dripping off the end of my nose as I stepped aside to let him in.

The breakup was quick, neat. He explained why, for reasons I already knew. It was over. That night, after he left, I made a mistake, one I hadn't made since our sessions. I stumbled to the bathroom, tears still blurring my vision. Grabbing my razor from the cabinet above the sink, I held it to my wrist and pressed down.

God, did it feel good! I knew at that moment how junkies must feel when they've finally got that fix they were jonesing for. Yeah, it hurt, but it was worth it. The pain cleared my head, made me realize what I should do. I let my blood flow out of the fresh cut, the first one in years. After the wound had clotted, I scrubbed my face with my hands and left the apartment, headed for Kim's place. We had become really good friends, and I was pretty sure I was in love with her, in a friend-way.

I called her from my cell phone as I was riding around on Sasha, trying to clear my head. She could hear the distress in my voice, and we met at a bar close to her place. I got really drunk, trying to blot out the pain of losing Perry. Kim knew my heart was breaking, but she couldn't figure out why. Thank goodness I had lost a patient earlier that day, because that was what she thought I was so upset by. I can't believe I just wrote that. I'm going to hell for being grateful one of my patients had died!...

Sorry for the freak-out there. As you probably can tell, I've been a little on-edge ever since things have gone down like they have. Speaking of which, I should continue with my story. Kim wasn't nearly as drunk as I was, so she drove me back to my apartment. Then, I made the second mistake of the night—I invited her in, and we had sex. It was our first time together, and in my drunken state and Kim's one-drink-too-many tipsiness, we forget to use a condom. I'm sure you can see where this is going. Sure enough, two weeks later, she called me over to her apartment and dropped the bomb on me: she was pregnant.

Truth be told, I had had a feeling that something like this would happen. And as scared as I was by the news that I was going to be a father, the emotion that I felt most strongly was self-satisfaction. I hadn't been sleeping or eating much, and the effects of the breakup were showing clearly. It pissed me off to no end that Perry acted like the same pompous ass at work, while I was clearly struggling. I had been prepared to spend the rest of my life with this man, and he recovers so quickly after our breakup? I took it to mean he never loved me at all, that he was just messing with me, thinking it would be funny to screw with my emotions (no pun intended). And I hated to act like a pissy, jealous, ex-girlfriend, but really, how could he be so unaffected by the ending of our relationship, as if it had never existed at all?

I didn't tell Perry in person about Kim's pregnancy, and when I told my friends, I used the excuse that we hadn't really had sex, that I had been "overexcited" by the dirty talk and accidently gotten her pregnant. They seemed to buy it, which was a relief. Oh, and did I mention I was arrested? Yep, and in Las Vegas no less. Long story short, my deck is a hangout place for old gay men, and they abducted me while I was passed out drunk and took me to Vegas. Anyway, my life only gets better. And I bet I can guess what you're thinking—there's more? Oh yes, this is just the beginning.

**So, what do you think? Please review!**


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